


Than Dreamt of in Your Philosophy

by misura



Category: Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Genre: Crueltide, Lovecraftian, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Stephen could not even have said what woke him, after - he only knew that something had called him and he had gone, up to the deck, barely decent.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathByChocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByChocolate/gifts).



Stephen could not even have said what woke him, after - he only knew that something had called him and he had gone, up to the deck, barely decent.

Jack was already there, looking disoriented, confused. Risen from the sea, at his back, something moved in the darkness. Stephen mistook it for a phantom at first, a remnant of his own dark dreams woven clean through a fragment of mist, but as his thoughts cleared, he realized that it was not so.

"Ah, Stephen. I was beginning to think my wits had wandered. You heard it, too, then?"

Stephen thought of his glasses, left behind. Saving his sanity, likely as not, simply by virtue of not being on his nose, enabling him to look and fail to see clearly. "I heard nothing."

Jack's eyes were sound. "Quite strange, it was. Mr Hollom's voice."

"Mr Hollom is not with us anymore," Stephen said carefully. He had detected nothing about the man, examined him, and diagnosed him 'physically healthy'. Surely, had there been a corruption of the mind, he would have seen it.

A true phantasm, then, summoned by Jack's guilt. He'd done for the man what he could, which had been precious little, as far as Stephen had seen, but then, it was a hard, difficult thing to help those who seemed neither able nor quite possessed of the necessary willpower to help themselves.

"His ghost, then," Jack said, as casually as a man beset by superstitions might.

Stephen had explained theories of illnesses to him, the workings of nature, and how a species might improve itself over time, and Jack had scoffed at these matters as flights of fantasy, good only for discussing amongst naturalists.

"His ghost," Stephen repeated. He was not a praying man, but for Mr Hollom, he had made an effort.

Any God who had not taken that poor soul to His bosom, condemning it instead to remain on Earth, chained to the very ship that had driven Mr Hollom to his unhappy fate - any such God was not one to whom Stephen would do obeisance, nor even put faith in.

"You look pale enough to have seen it yourself." Jack frowned. "Is it the cold that bothers you? Speed and punctuality is all very well, but both must give way to practicality. You might have grabbed a cloak."

"No, I'm - " _I'm considering how best to warn you not to turn around._ "I'm fine, Jack. Truly." Too late, it occurred to him that here had been the perfect excuse to send Jack back belowdecks, leaving Stephen to deal with things as best he might.

He had the expertise, if not the experience. He'd read the books, heard the various theories discussed, of those creatures that dwelled in the darkest depths of the sea, bringing madness to those unfortunates whose gaze might fall upon them.

_The Old Ones._ Slumbering, content to wait for the world's end, unless woken prematurely.

"You're a poor liar, Stephen."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

Jack smiled. Stephen imagined a world without that smile, a world where the only smiles on Jack's face would be dark, twisted things of malice and madness. "You would."

It would not even be deliberate, Stephen knew. Jack Aubrey as a person - as the captain of this vessel, as Stephen's friend, held no significance whatsoever to what had risen behind him. Like an ant to a tall man in boots with no interest in nature.

(Ants were not Stephen's particular passion, but in a detached way, he was able to grasp the fascination they might hold to someone. Their order and discipline, the way they took on burdens so far greater than themselves - yes, there was a certain charm there. A man might lose himself to the study of ants.)

"Jack," he said, noticing the way Jack responded to his tone of voice, to the direction of his gaze - "No. Don't. Look only at me. My face."

"Modesty, Doctor?" Jack's smile held a hint of a smirk. Vanity, pride - neither entirely unjustified, naturally. "Still, it's a pleasing enough sight. You're sure you heard nothing?"

"I do not believe in ghosts," Stephen said. "As a result, they do not bother me. It's a deal we've made, they and I, and we are both well content of it."

"What's behind me?" Jack asked.

Stephen hesitated. In Jack's place, he knew of nothing that might have kept him from turning. Perhaps nothing would have; perhaps, if it had been him at the railing and Jack talking him down, he would have been doomed and damned both.

"Something ill-suited for the gaze of men," he said. "You musn't look. It'll be your life and likely your soul as well if you do."

"You've seen it," Jack said. "Why - ah. Your glasses. What a clever fellow you are."

"Luck." The admission cost Stephen nothing. "Some of yours must have rubbed off."

"Well. Glad to have been of service." True bravery, Stephen had often argued, was borne of ignorance and folly as often as not. Bravado did not deserve praise if it only served to get people killed.

"Jack," he said.

"Truly, it's no hardship whatsoever," Jack said. "Until the next bell, at least, we're fine as we are: you, keeping a fogged eye on the beastie and me, gazing lovingly at your visage. Do you know, you have the most remarkable color of eyes."

"An ill-chosen time to get amorous." Stephen considered. A plan seemed to be called for, but it was hard to conceive of one, with so much at stake.

Patients and friends, Stephen might lose, and bear the memory of; losing Jack, and with him standing mere feet away as it happened would not be an event he would be able to put behind him.

"I do believe I've read somewhere that nothing so sharpens man's appetite for company as the nearness of death," Jack said. "I thought it odd, at the time, the typical hogswash your kind of people come up with, knowing nothing of the military life, but perhaps there's something to it after all."

"My kind of people?" Stephen asked. He was a doctor, a naturalist, and in some circles, he might have been termed a sodomite, bereft of God's mercy by the simple fact of his existence.

"Focus, Stephen," Jack said. "Will it act? If we change course, will it pursue? If we go belowdecks, will it lose its temper and start throwing things? Create a mighty storm? Strike us both dead with lightning? Cause a plague amongst the crew?"

"It's not a god." Stephen tried to remember what he had read. The truth was though that he had not expected this kind of situation to arise. He had studied the subject of the Old Ones, yes, but in the same manner in which a naturalist might study naval battles.

"Pity. We might have thrown it a chicken and be done with it."

"Don't joke."

"You need the cheering up," Jack said, in the same way he might have told Stephen he needed to have another glass of wine, or help himself to a fine piece of meat.

"Walk towards me." Stephen licked dry lips. "Slowly."

"You're quite sure it's not Mr Hollom?" Jack asked, taking one tentative step forwards. "No connection whatsoever? Upon your honor as a learned man of natural science?"

"For God's sake," Stephen said. "Will you move? I shall come and get you if I must."

"Without your glasses, in this poor light? You might break your neck." Jack took another step.

"I'd risk it, and more," Stephen muttered.

"Does it seem agitated at all? Restless? Aware that something is happening?"

"It's a blur," Stephen said.

"That's because you're tearing up like an old mother at a funeral," Jack said. "Or a wedding. Did I not tell you that you ought to have taken a cloak? Although I suppose if you'd stopped for one, you might have taken your glasses as well, and then we'd have landed in some hot soup indeed."

"Your casualness is in equal parts vexing and astounding."

"I aim to please," Jack said, taking another two steps. "That's the strategy, then? Turn out backs and hope the problem vanishes of its own accord?"

"Does that offend your sensitivities?"

"In this, as in all matter naturalist and medical, I bow to your superior expertise," Jack said. He was close enough to touch now, and Stephen, unable to help himself, did so. "Hands on the prize, Doctor?"

"We should warn the men, tell them not to go on deck."

"Trust the beastie to take care of any French who might try to take us?" Jack chuckled. "An attractive idea, although I fear it will not serve. It might lose interest."

"What concerns me is that it might not," said Stephen. "If it gets a hold of any of the men, things will go poorly. People will start losing their minds, and it will only get worse from there."

"We'll deal with that when it happens, not before." Jack bent his head. "You hear nothing at all?"

"The creaking of the ship. The coughs and moans of men who are sound asleep, as you and I should be. The wind, perhaps, and the sea." Stephen hesitated, unwilling to push the matter but equally reluctant to let it go. "If you hear anything else, it's only your imagination."

"Doubtlessly, you have the right of it." Jack sighed. "Very well. I shall have a word with Tom, and Master Allen, perhaps. We shall see what can be done."

It was victory, of a kind, and easy-won at that. "Will you join me later?"

"Not tonight, I think," Jack said. "You saved my life; be content with that much."

"I am," Stephen said. He felt light-headed - the relief, quite possibly. His body, belatedly responding to the danger and its passing. "I am well-content."

"Then sleep with the angels, brother. Get some rest, and some warmth. You look like you need it."

"I will," Stephen said. His limbs felt like lead. "I do. You're right."

 

(Tom took it poorly, as Jack had known he would. "For God's sake, Jack. Captain. Sir. What's next?")

("To be fair," Jack said, "I came because I thought I heard a ghost. Who's to say which one of us had the right of it? There are more things between heaven and earth, et cetera, and so on.")

("I'm sorry, am I supposed to be reassured that the ghosts are on _our_ side?" Tom asked.)

("Not all of them, perhaps. Just Mr Hollom's," Jack said comfortably. "Quite decent of him, don't you think, all things considered?")


End file.
